Between Things
by Glittermonkey
Summary: Meaningless fluff. Or not.


**Between Things**   
* Pairing: Curt/Brian. for lack of any other characters.   
* Categories: Fluffy conversational vignette   
* Rating: PG-13 for allusions   
* Disclaimer: *points to the Todd-meister* They're his. I'm a hack.   
* Summary: A little break, a bit of pondering, and a camel.   
* Feedback: Gods, yes. Any acknowledgement at all is treasured.   
* Notes: Just something dashed out over the weekend to help   
get myself back into a fluffier frame of mind after   
the weirdness of last week. A response to two -- count   
them -- two challenges from the PBU list. Thom's word   
challenge and Bosie's camel challenge.   
  
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HOTEL SUITE -- LONDON -- 1973 

"Man, you must've been on some real good shit when you wrote this." 

"Pardon?" Brian looked up from the sheet of paper he'd been busily   
scratching chords out on. 

"This," said Curt, waving a newly printed sheet of lyrics in his   
general direction. "The only way these make sense to anyone is if   
they're totally wasted." 

"You think so?" Brian leaned over and snatched the lyrics from Curt,   
perusing them intently. After a long pause, he shrugged and tossed   
them back. "They look fine to me. It's not enough that the syllables   
complement the melody, or that the composite essence of a dozen   
wordstrokes might simply create the perfect frame for a first-rate   
guitar solo?" 

"Well, look at it. 'Heil to the monkey?'" A skeptical raise of the   
eyebrow. 

Another pause. "I see." 

"You see?" 

Grabbing a cushion, Brian plopped himself down next to where Curt   
was sprawled on the sofa. "Yes, I see. Let me tell you about a   
dream I had last night." 

"Did it involve me?" 

"Yes." 

"Cool. Shoot." 

"We were on Mount Everest. It was very pretty and snowy." 

"Why Mount Everest?" 

"Prime skiing conditions? I don't know. Why not?" 

"Brian, you break out the fur coats when we visit the dairy section   
of the supermarket." 

"Oh, hush." 

Curt gave a noncommittal snort. 

"So we're on Mount Everest or something like it. And one thing   
leads to another, so soon we're making love in the snow." 

The sound of coughing. "Ummm... no. Do you know what happens to   
exposed body parts in that kind of weather? Right up there with   
having an ice cube enema. It's enough to make even me think twice   
before whipping it out. I'm good, but not that good." 

"This was a dream, Curt. Besides, you're missing the point." 

"There's a point to this?" 

"Maybe. So there we are. I'm wearing a flea collar and not much   
else... and have this incessant craving for a rawhide chew. And   
you... you're in a monk's habit and this strange set of beige   
pyjamas. And the haircut! Gods, it was horrible. Well, the   
majority of it was. The little braided leash part might have   
been fun." 

"This is coming from the man who thinks pink wigs are a good idea." 

"All your hair was cut short! There was hardly any left! Did I   
ever tell you how much I love your hair long, by the way?" 

"I think you just find it more convenient to hold onto than my ears." 

"Possibly. But I really do think it's a very attractive look on you." 

"I promise never to change it, then." 

"Anyway, you'll never guess what happened next." 

"You're right. I won't even try." 

"We got accosted by a camel." 

"A camel?" 

"It tried to pass itself off as a llama, tricky bastard, but I know   
a camel when I see one." 

"A camel?" 

"Oh, it wasn't that big a deal, I suppose. It was a friendly camel,   
after all." 

"It told you it was friendly?" 

"Well, no. It just kept on inching closer to us while we were doing   
it. Looked like it wanted in on the action." 

Curt shifted uncomfortably. 

"But I told it no, of course. I might have a liberal stance on all   
sorts of experimentation, but I'm not about to share you with any   
large quadrupeds. A man's got to have his standards." 

"I'm... glad. I think." 

"I thought you would be. Finally, it got tired of waiting around   
and threw a pogo stick at us." 

"Because that's obviously what camels carry around when they go   
to the mountains." 

"So then you suddenly had a brilliant idea about how to use the   
pogo stick." 

"I did?" 

"Yes." 

"What was it?" 

"I have my suspicions, but sadly, I woke up before they could be   
confirmed." 

Curt nodded slowly. "And there was a point to all that?" 

"Is there?" 

"You just said there was a point!" 

"I did? I must have lied." 

"D'oh." 

Brian blinked and thought back over the last few minutes. "Ah, yes.   
Now, there are three possible conclusions that we can draw from all   
this. One. I'm a complete nutcase." 

Curt nodded emphatically. 

"Wait! Listen to all the options first before deciding." 

"You know what they say about voting early and voting often." 

"Two. There are darker forces at work here and we are doomed to   
live our lives catching only random glimpses of a larger picture,   
as characters in a vast story. Haunting images that we will never   
understand from what little we see -- moments of deja vu that will   
never be anything more. It will always seem bizarre and aimless to   
us because we toil on without the necessary backdrop of knowledge   
and experiences to explain it all." 

"I still like option one." 

"Three. What you see and what you mean might not necessarily   
correlate. The mind works in mysterious ways. Maybe there is   
no meaning. Maybe you bring the meanings with you, and all one   
can do is provide the means of unlocking them. In which case,   
who are we to decide what might or might not have meaning,   
based merely on the rules of grammar and syntax?" 

Curt blinked and sat silently for a while, mulling this over.   
Brian beamed triumphantly. 

"Or," Curt finally added, "maybe you're just seeing how much crap   
they'll let you get away with." 

Brian gave him an enigmatic smile. "Always a possibility." 

Shaking his head, Curt went back to lolling listlessly. This   
lasted for all of ten seconds. 

"Want to hear another story?" 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"It involves a banana, a megaphone, and a fur whip..." 

-finis-   



End file.
